Chapter 35: A Chase in a Sports Car

Elvis, a man who appreciated beauty, had been surrounded by beautiful women his entire life. Yet, when he saw Olive's face, his pupils subtly constricted. He'd imagined her beauty, but the reality surpassed his expectations. He reached for her face, but Olive quickly replaced her mask.

"Mr. Augustine, you've seen it. I'll leave," she said, pushing past him and hurrying away.

Olive washed her face with cold water in the bathroom. She'd worn the mask since childhood, her beauty having brought unnecessary trouble. She'd grown accustomed to it, but since returning from the orphanage, no one had seen her without it—until Elvis.

Exiting the bathroom, she saw a tall figure leaning against the wall in the dimly lit corridor. Elvis's handsome face, framed by the yellow light, seemed even more striking in his black attire. His posture, though relaxed, conveyed a mature indifference. He stood near the ladies' room, almost swaggering.

Olive admitted his charm; he was an elegant man who effortlessly drew people in. She started to leave, but he blocked her path with a casually extended leg.

"Mr. Augustine, what does this mean?" she asked, looking up at him.

He stood before her, his gaze lingering on her masked face. He reached for her mask, but Olive pushed him away and fled.

Elvis watched her go, then tucked his hands into his pockets and licked his lips. Harry approached.

"Bro, is she ugly or beautiful?" he asked.

Elvis muttered, "Put away your curiosity."

Harry shrank back, then suddenly exclaimed, "Bro, what's wrong with your pants? They look stained."

Elvis looked down to see a wet spot on his trousers. He realized Olive had been sitting on his lap.

Later, as Olive walked toward the Red Villa, Elvis called. She ignored the call. Boarding a crowded bus, she stood by the window.

Suddenly, a passenger shouted, "There's a sports car chasing our bus! The man in the car is so handsome!" More excited chatter followed.

Olive turned to see Elvis in the sports car; their eyes met. The wind whipped at his shirt as he gripped the steering wheel, revealing his expensive watch.

The bus stopped, and Elvis's car pulled alongside. He exited and entered the bus, the crowd parting to let him pass. He stopped before Olive.

"Why didn't you answer your call?" he murmured, his voice captivating.

Before Olive could respond, he embraced her. She felt dizzy. The next thing she knew, she was in the presidential suite at KissLand Bar.

"Elvis, what are you doing?" she asked.

He pushed her onto the bed, then knelt beside her, taking her hand and placing it on his belt.

"Open it!" he commanded.

"Elvis, are you crazy? If you want a woman, there are plenty in KissLand," she retorted.

He frowned, then gestured toward his trousers. "You stained my pants," he said.

Olive saw the wet spot and realized she'd spilled wine on them. Embarrassed, she began to apologize.

"I admit it was my fault, but don't you have hands? I'm not changing your pants for you!" she insisted.

Elvis countered, "You better change them, or I'll kiss you. Maybe you're looking forward to it."

Olive hastily began unbuttoning his belt, her obedience softening his demeanor. She struggled, however, as she'd never unbuttoned a man's leather belt before.